Gleipnir
by Renmazuo
Summary: Just a little short. On a night prior to the game, Alma runs after a wounded Teta, and each gets a little present from the other.


Gleipnir  
by Renmazuo

My legs...my shins feel like they're bleeding. It's so cold...oh, where are you? Where are you?!

Igros was harsh in the winter. The city's rulers prided itself on having no slums, no dregs in which the bottom tier of society wasted away, but those who saw Igros at the core knew that wasn't the truth. As much as Dycedarg Beoulve and Duke Larg liked to ignore it, there were bad neighborhoods in Igros, where the veterans of the Fifty Year War came to die and thieves schemed doomed rebellions against the crown. They were dark streets and alleys, living in the shadow of the majestic castle and cast away from its grace. They were abandoned, and those abandoned with it were at the mercy of the weather. And in winter, death and despair were at their highest here.

Alma ran through those streets and alleys, the tears in her eyes frosting in the cold. Her shins were sore, she'd been running for what felt like hours, and her face was parched and chapped. It was so late at night, and she could barely see, and her lantern was growing dim. The fatigue, the cold, and the monotonous echoes of her own footsteps on the barren alley floors were setting in. Alma was beginning to tire, and she felt she would fall soon, fainting against the dark walls of these abandoned houses, weakened by the cold.   
  
_...no. I will not...I have to find her!_

She grunted, stuffing the small purple scarf against her mouth, chafing her cheeks and lips. She forced her eyes to stay open, holding out the swishing lantern in her hand, and peered into the alleys as she ran. Her eyes caught moldy blankets crumpled against the walls, long deserted by their homeless owners as they wandered along. The alley before her was filled with these blankets, and she could see no one in sight. Just old blankets, strewn across her path.

Alma hurried along, scanning the alley. _Zalbag said he saw her run to this district...by the Saints, it's so cold, how in her right mind could she rush out here like this?_ She bit her lip as she reached a separate passage in the alley, her concern increasing along with the frigid exhaustion in her body. She came to a stop, looking into the new path before her- and nearly fell to her knees as the pain flared in her shins again. She winced and leaned her free hand on the grimy wall- it was all so painful. She shouldn't be out here, she knew; she'd just gotten over a severe fever, and this would not help at all. Tomorrow she would surely be ill, she could even miss seeing Ramza and Delita off to the Academy. They'd been on a break period for the past few days, and Alma hadn't gotten to talk to them much...

...I'm not turning back.

"Hff...hff...just don't keep me out here...too long," Alma breathed, shuffling forward. She raised the lantern again, squinting into the cold darkness. She saw the passage was a dead end of chilled black brick and more blankets, and there was a large trash bin at the end, boarded up and shoved aside. Alma smelled something foul, and grunted again as she stuffed the scarf against her nose. She took a step further, casting a little more light on the path. She saw something huddled against the bin, shifting under a dark purple blanket-

Alma froze. She could not mistake that shade of purple. "Teta!"

She rushed forward, and the lantern cast light over her lost friend. Teta sat there, her arms wrapped around her knees and her body resting against the pungent trash bin. Her dress was in disarray, her purple skirt torn from running and the sleeves of her blouse matted and dirty. She turned her head up, her brown hair tangled around a lovely face streaked with tears- and crust. Alma felt hot rage well up in her stomach as Teta turned her dark eyes to her, exposing the bits of pie crust that littered her cheeks. In Ajora's name, how could they have done such a thing...?  
  
"Oh, Teta..." Alma slumped by the other girl, the lantern clattering at her side. She reached out, tenderly touching Teta's cheek. "Teta, you're like ice...come back with me, please!"  
  
Teta shut her eyes, turned her face away, put a palm to the cheek Alma had touched. "...why...why'd you come out here? I wanted to be alone..."  
  
"Don't say that. Don't ever say that, please." Alma tugged her scarf loose, her blonde hair falling to chill the back of her neck. She wrapped it around Teta's shoulders, breathing warm puffs of air on her neck. "You shouldn't be out here...please, Teta, come back with me."  
  
Teta's eyelids squeezed further, and she pressed her hand to her face. "G...go away! Go...aah..." Her voice cracked, and she sniffed, failing to hold back a wheezing sob. "They...they threw _food_ at me, Alma..."

Alma hugged Teta fiercely, grimacing as her own throat tightened with pain and anger. Teta slumped against her willingly, her weeping muffled in Alma's chest. The wind was sharp and cold over both of them, but the fury in Alma's heart dispelled it all. She was angry. She was _angry_. Those 'classmates' of theirs had planned it all. She and Teta had been so looking forward to the graduation dance at Igros Aristocratic School...

All just because her blood isn't the color of their feather hats. She was going to ask Ramza for a dance, and they cut her off...mashed a pie in her face. Called her a dog. Alma grit her teeth and hugged Teta tightly. _Uncaring, mean little fools..._

Teta shuddered, sighing into Alma's shirt. "A...Alma, my chest..."

Alma looked down, moving Teta just enough to see her chest. She froze again, finding Teta's collar ripped down to the slope of one breast- and a ragged chip of glass cutting into her skin. Alma glanced in horror at Teta. Her face was pale, her eyes heavy and red, and she winced. "Fell, I...I was running..."

"Oh, Teta..." Alma moved her hand carefully to the cut, tentatively grasping it between her thumb and forefinger. It was not deep, but the cold was clearly not helping. Teta gasped as she took hold of it, her hands wrenching Alma's skirt. Alma did not relent, knowing she had to get it out. She touched a finger along the flesh, finding the outline of the shard in Teta's cold skin. She swallowed, looking back to Teta with a weak smile. "It's okay, Teta...I'll take it out. Be still..."  
  
Teta nodded back, still sniffling. Alma cupped her other hand close to Teta's breast, and slowly grasped the sharp edges of the glass again. She rubbed Teta's chest soothingly, then, with the utmost of caution, pulled out the shard. The torn flesh fell back, bleeding, and Teta jerked, twisting her hands in the cloth of Alma's skirt. "Gngh..." 

"Shh...it's okay, it's out," Alma whispered, tossing the shard aside. "I'll take care of it. Easy..." She placed her fingers close to the wound, pressing against the flesh where the shard had cut. She bowed her head towards Teta's shoulder, and puckered her lips, blowing softly on the cut. "_Per animam meam, adsumate signo tuto uto care, una pretiosa_," she whispered. "Through my heart, receive this protective spell to use, precious one..." 

Her fingers pressed down once, but Teta did not wince. A sparkling pink light was already there, at the center of the cut, weaving its way along the broken flesh. It cast its gentle glow over Alma's face as she blew upon its essence, and then coursed through the wound. The flesh sealed up and the blood caked and fell away, its glow fading into Teta's chest. Then it was as if the cut had never been. 

Teta relaxed under Alma's grip, breathing in relief as the warm light finally disappeared into her chest. Then all was cold again, and her head fell forward. "...Alma, I'm so sorry..."  
  
Alma gave her the best smile she had, pulling up Teta's blouse and tying it up. "I'll have to sew this when you're home...and clean this up, too." She gave her fingers a small lick and wiped at Teta's cheek, rubbing off bits of pie crust. Again, she smiled. "You know, even with all the pie, Ramza would have danced with you in a heartbeat. After throwing all those jerks out the window, of course."

Teta chuckled, a weak but comforted sound. She curled her arms over her chest, barely moving as Alma cleaned her cheek. She sobered again, sniffling and doing her best to wipe a tear on her sleeve. "I'm sorry...I shouldn't have run like that. It was stupid of me...stupid, stupid...I should've just gone home..."  
  
Alma used the scarf's edge to dry Teta's cheeks, then drew the other girl back into an embrace. "I would have followed you even then, Teta..." She winced. "Oh, you're freezing...here, I know the way back, I'll help you up."  
  
"N-no..." Teta swallowed, burying her face in Alma's shoulder. "I'm...I don't want to move..."  
  
Alma tilted her head, suddenly alarmed. "Wh-why? Are you hurt anywhere else...?" Teta made no response to that, only buried her head further in. She shook again, and Alma knew she was going to cry. Her own eyes welled up, the anger seizing her again. This wasn't fair. Teta was such a good student, smart and diligent- and her dearest friend. All through their early lives they'd been close, and Alma did not forego friendship so easily. Teta was a good person, a _good_ person...

She rested her hand on Teta's nape, stroking it gently. "...you know something, Teta?"  
  
Teta shook her head, not looking up.

"I wish I were more like you."  
  
Teta gulped, shaking her head again. "No, you don't...I'm...they call me trash, Alma. Dog. Wench...and..." She trembled, squeezing her hands in Alma's skirt once more. "After a while...you begin to believe it..."

Oh, God... Alma gently pulled Teta's head back, biting a trembling lip. "Teta. These people have been saying these things for six months...six months. A long time, and even one second is far too much. You deserve to be called none of those things..." She brushed back a lock from Teta's forehead, smiling gently. "But, you know...I've known you for fifteen years. For those fifteen years, I have always wanted to be like you. You are a good person, better than me..." Alma chafed her shoulders, gently kneading Teta's cold muscles. "_Amica mea cara, te amo...ego te amo. Semper ego te amo._ You know that..."

Teta leaned her head in Alma's hand, smiling back as best as she could. "Alma..."  
  
The way she said her name was enough to make Alma want to weep with joy, but she restrained it, putting on another smile. She tugged Teta closer and hugged her again, even tighter. She took a deep breath, her friend's familiar scent flooding through her, and suddenly the night wasn't so cold. "Don't run, Teta...I don't want you to fall again. I'm always here. I won't ever leave you."  
  
Teta shook a little, gently placing her hands on Alma's sides. "...don't make promises like that, Alma," she said, her voice strained.  
  
Alma frowned slightly. "Why not?"  
  
"...I've seen you coughing, lately." Teta swallowed- Alma wished she could take that lump out of her throat herself- and squeezed fistfuls of Alma's blouse. "I know you're sick...I know you're in pain...ahh, haha...look at me." She turned her head up, her eyes far redder now. "I make you and everyone run out here in the cold...right when you're ill. I'm...oh, I can't even say 'I'm sorry', Alma! I can't even say that...mmf!" She shook her head back and forth, trying to choke back the lump. "I'm...b-by God, Alma, you're my only friend..."  
  
Teta bowed her head again, eyes shriveling into tears. "Can...can you imagine what it feels like? To see you cough, or see you sneeze...or hear you say you have a headache, or a stomach ache...to just know you're not well, and...and to...to feel so afraid..."

Alma's breath came to a slow, deliberate halt. Her heart quickened in its pace, a throbbing surge rushing from her belly to her throat. Few things had ever affected her like that- like hearing from your best friend that she feared for your life even when the most minuscule threat to it appeared. Alma could barely speak, her parched lips managing only, "Teta..."

Teta slumped against her once more, and this time it was she who embraced Alma- clung to her, even. "Alma...Alma, please...when you promise that, you have to mean it with all your heart. Please...Alma, don't throw me away, don't leave me..."  
  
It would have been so easy to pity her. But pity was never reserved for those with the ardor, the life that Teta had, and especially not when they bared such passion. Alma gently cupped the back of Teta's head, just under and behind her ear, and guided Teta gently from her shoulder to her chest- over her own heart. Teta stopped sniffling, and Alma stroked down the back of her neck, smoothing out her hair. She turned her head down towards Teta's, and spoke softly. "By the heart that beats here, Teta, I promise I won't ever leave you...for as long as you live, I won't let death touch me..." She smiled. "I won't let it touch you, either."  
  
Teta was quiet. Her body quivered in Alma's embrace, her body flashing cold and hot. Alma chafed her arms again, doing her best to keep Teta warm. She stopped, though, when Teta placed her left hand on her right. The brown-haired girl brought that hand up and behind her head; Alma frowned a little, wondering what it was Teta was trying to guide her to. A moment later, as Teta brought the young Cleric's fingers to close around her ponytail, Alma knew. There was a small bow tying Teta's hair together, and Teta made Alma tug it free. Teta shook her hair loose, letting it cascade down her back. Alma smiled- she actually looked even prettier like that.   
  
"Um...here," Teta said, drawing their hands back around to Alma's chest. She pressed the bow into Alma's palm, and averted her gaze. "This...this can be the sign of that promise, yes?"  
  
Alma looked into her palm, studying the bow. It was a woven cloth of crimson, though it appeared pink, and was softer and lighter than all the bows Alma had. She rubbed its surface, and it felt like...

Like the skin on Teta's cheeks...this is a holy cloth. I cannot take it-

"You will take it," Teta said, seeming to read her own thoughts. "Please...I-I don't know much about it, it was something my mother gave me, before she got sick. _Gleipnir_, she called it...it's a Barette. Supposed to be unbreakable, or something silly like that..." She gave Alma's hand another squeeze. "If you keep it close, maybe...maybe you'll be that much safer..."  
  
Alma reached behind her head, her smile never fading as she tied it into her hair. "I will. Haha, I'll be the second-prettiest girl in Igros, thanks to this! After you, of course."

"Hah-hah..." Teta smiled back, rubbing her eyes. "You always cheer me up. Thank you..."

"You've given me twice as much cheer," Alma said, and meant it. She perked her head up as a shout came from nearby- Zalbag, most likely. She put her arms around Teta's shoulders again, and gave her a gentle tug. "I think I hear Zalbag. Come on, now...you look so sleepy. Let's get you back to the estate and clean you up..."  
  
"...all right," Teta said, sighing as Alma stood her up. "Alma, I'm- I'm so, so sorry..."  
  
Alma shook her head. "Teta, you have nothing to be sorry about. But, believe me, those clowns _will_ be sorry tomorrow," she said, setting her jaw. "You're as much a Beoulve as I am."  
  
Teta chuckled, leaning her head on Alma's shoulder. "I like to think that."  
  
"Then do so! I doubt Father thinks of you as anything but a daughter," Alma said, slinging Teta's arm over her shoulders. "Now shh. Some hot water and a good, warm night's sleep is what you need."   
  
She left the lantern- Zalbag had many, and besides, the people that wandered through here were in more need of light than she. Alma guided Teta along, walking towards the alley again. She could hear Zalbag growing closer, his crisp voice ringing out across the district as he called for them. She was glad- in just a few minutes, she and Teta and Zalbag and everyone would be back at the Estate, warm and ready for a long night's rest. The night had ended well.  
  
"Alma...?"  
  
Alma looked back at Teta, and found her friend's dark eyes peering into her own. She tilted her head, returning the stare. "Yes...?"  
  
Teta smiled drowsily. "I'm sorry...could you say what you told me again...? In the Middle Glabdic...?"  
  
"Say wh...oh..." Alma smiled back, tugging Teta closer, and whispered back to her. "_Amica mea cara, ego te amo...semper ego te amo_."

Teta closed her eyes, and pulled the scarf until it draped over both their necks. "_Amica mea..._"  
  
"_Amica mea cara. Semper, amica mea pretiosa..._"

---  
  
_She left me at Fort Zeakden. Along with Delita, and Ramza. All of them left me, and that was when I began to doubt. I began to fear. I began to feel the terror that she told me about- that of loss. When she told me how much she feared for my life at all those meaningless moments- when I sneezed, when I coughed- I felt...I felt like life was worth even more than I already valued it. And life was richer for having Ramza and Delita, and Father, and Zalbag, and even Dycedarg, all in it. For having Teta in it._

That's why it hurt when she left me. That's why I began to doubt.   
  
Don't take that the wrong way. Doubt is a beautiful gift that's been given to mankind- without doubt, we would still have slaves. Without doubt, we would have no ships. Without doubt, we wouldn't know God. Perhaps, without doubt, we would be less human. But we have doubt, and for that, I am immensely grateful. Yet, as with all things, doubt has a darker side, and that is fear. And the ultimate point of fear- the nadir of its darkness- is despair. Despair is a terrible sin.

That is why I am here now. When Teta left me, and when Zalbag came to me from Zeakden, grim-faced...I started to doubt. I'm still doubting, and gradually, I think I may be yet slipping into that darker side of doubt.

...yet I still do not fear. I will never fear. I won't. Ever. For Teta's sake, I won't give in to that.

Teta...ego te amo. I love you. Semper ego te amo. I will always love you. 

Amica mea cara. My beloved friend.

- End -


End file.
